Exigency
by Wahoogal06
Summary: Section 31 has been resurrected and Jim Kirk is in *way* over his head. Will his friends reach him in time, or will the past be their collective undoing?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story follows the events of "Rising Son" immediately after Chapter 34. I strongly recommend that you read the last 3-4 chapters of that story before starting this one to get an idea of where we're at. Thanks, and enjoy "Exigency"!

* * *

**Limits**

_**The Auriga, **_**2289.339, 0122 hours.** With 2 steaming mugs of coffee in hand Nyota walked by the closed door of the control deck and listened close. She couldn't tell if Pavel was still in there or not until she heard him cough. He'd hardly left the cockpit since they boarded and she bet it'd been like that ever since they left Paris. Nyota didn't blame him. Pavel was afraid for Jim—they all were—and while the Apollo-class transport was brand new and one of the fastest commercial ships around problems could still arise (especially when pushing a warp 9 capable engine to the max 12 or more hours everyday).

That was why he was watching everything so closely, even now when they were kilometers away from anywhere important. Anything could happen out here and with so much at stake none of them could afford to slip up. Pavel was working the console as she entered but as soon as he was through she pressed the mug into his hand. "It's decaf."

"Zank you." Nyota took the vacant seat to his right—one leg folded beneath her and one foot on the floor—and sipped from her own mug, both of them gazing out the viewport. "I was going to go to bed soon. Honest."

"I know."

"I really was," he insisted.

"Pavel…"

"Eet's just zat ze alarm sounded and I wanted to make sure zat ze auto-pilot corrected course and slowed down like eet es supposed to. She es a new ship and sometimes zere are problems…"

"I believe you," Nyota replied. "_You_ know your limits. You'll go to sleep when you're ready."

"Oh." Pavel adjusted his grip on the mug while pondering her curious statement. "Oohhh. Meester Spock es not…?"

She heaved a sigh. "No, he isn't." Nyota took another sip then stared hard out the window, swallowing down her irritation. She'd spent the last hour trying to convince Spock to get some sleep but of course he countered every argument with reasons why he couldn't. His loyalty was endearing _and_ frustrating.

Changing the subject before her blood pressure spiked again she asked Pavel if he'd talked to his husband lately. "Da, I spoke with Callan earlier today. He and Max miss me but zey are both good."

"Good." She pushed off with her big toe and swiveled in her chair before suddenly stopping. "Has anybody asked where you are?"

"Only a few friends, no one from Starfleet."

Her posture relaxed in relief. "Where do they think you've gone?"

"Zey zink zat I am wiz my Mozer, helping her get better."

Nyota smiled back as she raised the mug to her lips again; Pavel's cover story echoed her own. "There seems to be a lot of sickness going around…"

"Da," he replied with a sly grin on his face.

"So what grade is Max in now? 8th? 9th?"

"He es a sophomore."

"Already?!" she exclaimed. "But he's only…"

"He es almost 12, I know, but Nyota he es so smart zat zey keep promoting him. Sometimes he will ask me to help wiz his homework and I feel like _I_ cannot keep up wiz him."

Pavel humbly hung his head even as he beamed with pride at his son's accomplishments; meanwhile Nyota threw her head back and laughed. "If you can't keep up than I'm in even bigger trouble!" They shared a look, marveling at the lives they'd built for themselves.

"We are wery lucky, aren't we?"

"Yes," she replied, swiveling back and forth in her seat like a school girl, "We are."

* * *

**1144 hours. **Leonard waltzed into the common room/kitchenette area and sat in a plush chair near the wall. Outside the viewport he gazed at the surrounding stars as they traveled past blurring into streaks of white. Sinking back into his seat Len closed his eyes to shut out the world. He took a deep breath; the transport still had that new ship smell.

Despite the new mattress (or maybe because of it—it was stiff as a board) he dozed where he sat and the next thing he knew one of the doors hissed open and Spock entered the room. His outward appearance was impeccable as always but his olive-hued skin had a sickly sheen to it and the dark circles under his eyes looked drawn on with a black marker. Without a word he passed by Leonard and headed straight for the replicators, his eyes glued to his PADD the whole time.

"You find anything?" he asked as Spock took the cup in hand.

The Vulcan sniffed the brew then took a seat at the table in the center of the room. He had been analyzing Jim's personal files practically non-stop since he boarded 3 days ago, and Len suspected he'd been working on them since long before that. "I have discovered a great many documents."

He rolled his eyes. Vulcan sarcasm. Wonderful. "You know what I mean."

Spock took a long sip of tea before replying. "I fully understand your meaning and I have found nothing of consequence—yet." He picked up a spoon and stirred his drink while looking at his PADD. Without sparing Len a glance he took another sip and kept on reading. "On April 26th of this year Jim was appointed to the budget oversight committee to fill a vacancy created by the retirement of Admiral Chi-taw. Approximately 378 of the 512 files I was able to retrieve from his personal cache before the system alerted Starfleet to the breech are directly related to his work on the committee. I am currently reviewing the paperwork in an attempt to follow whatever evidence led Jim to believe that Section 31 had been re-established and based out of Tarsus IV. Thus far I have not found any tangible evidence to suggest a mining operation has been erected on the deserted planet."

Len nodded then went back to looking out the viewport, the fear, anger and hurt bubbling up inside him as it had for the last week. A cool silence hung between them as he struggled over whether to give voice to his feelings. Eventually he looked up and their eyes locked. "Why d'you think he…?"

"I do not know."

Spock's terseness echoed his own frustration whenever he thought of Jim in that place. For all the years that they'd known each other their friend only referred to his experiences on Tarsus 5 times; each conversation had been worse than the last and each had been brought on by Jim after a heavy round of drinking.

The last conversation, though, had been the _absolute_ worst.

It happened the day Sam disappeared—it'd only been for 10 minutes but still. The twins were just a pair of gap-toothed 7 year olds when it happened. They were on shore leave but it was so many years ago Len couldn't for the life of him remember where. Jim gave himself the afternoon off and took the kids down to the surface so Taline could have some time to herself. They were in the marketplace, taking in the sights and shopping for souvenirs, when Jim lost sight of Sam. One minute he was there hugging his hip and the next he was gone.

It took all of 2 seconds before the whole ship was on red alert and every officer they possessed flooded the square. They found Sam not long after holding the hand of a shopkeeper who found him wandering around. The kid was oblivious to the panic he'd caused and was sucking away on a lollipop that gave him a goofy orange grin. Instead of being grateful Jim hit the shop owner with a right cross that snapped his head back...and the beating didn't stop there.

Lily's screams were ear-splitting and Sam—the poor kid was so traumatized he pissed his pants. It took 6 security officers to pull the pair apart and Jim fought them with every ounce of strength he had; in fact he was still trying to wrap his hands around the shopkeeper's neck when they beamed back aboard.

The next few hours were a blur for Len. He had his hands full treating the man and convincing him not to press charges (which was no mean feat). When he was through he and Spock went to confront Jim and found his quarters dark and quiet. After the day they'd had on the surface Taline took the kids to Janice's for their own peace of mind while Jim had taken to a bottle of whiskey and was falling down drunk in his own living room.

"I couldn't," he hiccupped mournfully as they hefted him onto the couch. Len stepped through to the kitchen in search of some coffee while Spock pried the almost empty bottle from his hands. "I couldn't…I couldn't." In a flood of tears they pieced together the story of how Jim, after Kodos' decree, had led a pack of children to safety in the woods; how little Clara, all of 4 years old, was lured away by a patrol guard one day when Jim wasn't looking, a man that looked like the one from the market; how he tried to get her back only to find she'd already been killed; how he almost died himself before Starfleet showed up in the nick of time.

Until that night Len never knew the complete history of Jim's scars. After that night he longed for his old familiar ignorance.

It took a long time for Jim to get right again after that, to lock the nightmares of Tarsus back up. It made Len shudder to think of him back on the planet now under these circumstances and with only Selek to help him.

"I suspect," his friend continued, "That Jim did not inform us of his findings or of his current plan in a misguided attempt to protect us; I must admit, however, that his actions thus far have instead had the opposite effect and have made us more vulnerable."

"Don't I know it," Len grumbled. He got up and took a seat across from him at the table. "I'm worried about him, Spock."

There was a beat as he put the PADD down. "I am equally concerned for Jim's welfare."

Len gave a grim nod then went back to staring blankly out the viewport. He wanted to ask if he thought Jim was still alive but didn't think he could bear listening to 'the statistical likelihood'—he didn't need Spock's analytical brain to know the odds weren't good.

Just then the Vulcan let loose a loud, long yawn, causing Len to study him out of the corner of his eye. "When's the last time you got a decent sleep?"

"I have slept."

He gave Spock the stink eye and whipped out his tricorder to get a basic reading. "You didn't answer my question."

"I slept yesterday afternoon."

"For how long?" he asked sharply. He knew Spock's stalling tactics all too well and the vitals he was getting were all over the map.

Spock pursed his lips. "I slept for 1.32 hours."

"And before that?"

"Doctor…"

"And before you slept yesterday for 1.32 hours and however many seconds when was the last time you got a decent rest?" Len asked again.

"I slept for 57.6 minutes 4.19 days ago."

"Dammit, Spock! Give me that!" He angrily yanked the PADD out of his overworked friend's hands. "The last thing we need is for you to have a major health crisis as we're flying into…well we don't know what exactly but that's not the point! If we're going to help Jim we need to keep it together, you especially, and to do that you need sleep!"

"I am well aware of what is required of me, Doctor McCoy," Spock retaliated. He attempted to snatch the PADD back but Len slid it further out of reach. His slowed reflexes were yet another sign that all was not right and one eyebrow rose sharply at the observation. "Perhaps I am more in need of rest than I previously realized."

"Perhaps," he smugly retorted. Spock eyed him suspiciously before conceding the point. "Look," Len added, "If it'll make you feel better _I'll_ pore over the files for a few hours while you go get some shut eye." He handed the PADD back to his friend. "Just show me what to look for." Glancing down at the long roll of script on Spock's PADD Len almost immediately regretted his offer.

Spock took the device in hand. "I have thus far flagged 7 files for further review due to unusual budgetary discrepancies between this year's records and previous year's records, although I have been unable to find any commonalities between them. I believe…"

Spock was still talking half an hour later when Len ushered him to his room and into bed.

* * *

**1832 hours.** "Spock." The hand attached to the voice was shaking him quite insistently. "Spock, wake up, we think we found something." He awoke to find the lights on full and caught sight of Nyota's back as she fled the room. Consulting his internal chronometer Spock discovered he had been asleep for 6 hours, 44 minutes and 27.3 seconds.

Upon entering the common room 1.78 minutes later he discovered all 4 of his friends standing around the table poring over 5 PADDs, talking and gesticulating animatedly as they debated their recent breakthrough. On the PADD in front of Mr. Chekov he caught sight of the words Project Khem. Spock could not recall any assignment within Starfleet, past or present, with that distinction.

"What is Project Khem?"

As one the group rushed to answer him and it was a further 6.33 minutes before his adun'a and friends could satisfactorily explain the significance of their findings. While Spock was asleep they discovered 4 additional files that corresponded with the criteria he had earlier given to Leonard; after much research the group learned that 8 of the 11 files corresponded with the aforementioned project. What they had yet to uncover was what the project entailed or who within Starfleet was in charge of development. Given the partial list of supplies now in their possession it also appeared that Jim's suspicions of an illegal mining operation taking place were indeed correct.

It was the breakthrough they needed and one that Spock realized he should have had days earlier had he allowed himself to rest and collaborate with his peers. They had not yet reached Tarsus IV and already he was emotionally compromised by the mission.

Spock gave a slight shake of the head to clear his mind then returned to the matter at hand. "What is being done to uncover the true nature of Project Khem?"

Pavel gestured for Spock to join him. "If you will look here you will see zat we are tracing ze origins of all of ze projects zat ze supplies were originally intended for before zey were siphoned off to Project Khem. As you can see zey traweled zrough numerous channels and zose transfers would haf required permission from someone with a wery high clearance. Statistically speaking ze architect of ze project should haf their name appear more often zan ze rest."

"I see." Spock picked up the PADD closest to him and eyed the algorithm being used to comb through the data. "May I assist you?"

"Yes please." Pavel motioned for him to take a seat and the two inclined their heads toward one another as they continued the investigation.

Meanwhile Leonard rolled his neck, his joints emitting a loud creak of protest in reaction, then proceeded toward the kitchenette next to the replicators. "Anybody hungry?" he inquired as he pulled open the overhead cupboard.

Nyota, who along with Christine had continued to scour the recovered files in search of more transactions leading to Project Khem, looked up. "What're you making?"

"Chili," Leonard and Christine answered as one. The doctor scowled while Pavel and the girls chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"Sweetheart," Christine replied, "You're a brilliant doctor but a cook you are not." The other continued to laugh harder at her pronouncement. Their mirth was illogical and yet he noticed that it helped ease his high anxiety.

"Fine," Leonard retorted. "Just for that, none for you. Now do I have any other takers? I'll make it vegetarian if you want, Spock."

"Thank you, Leonard. I will partake of your chili."

"I will haf some too, zank you."

"I'm in," Nyota declared, "And afterwards we can go call the kids."

"Sounds good." The doctor turned toward the cutting board and began systematically slicing the peppers he had retrieved from the stasis unit.

Their easy camaraderie, their current surroundings—if he closed his eyes then for .003 seconds Spock could almost forget how much danger they were all in and pretend that they were back aboard the _Enterprise_. _If only our present situation were so simple._

* * *

**A/N 2:** Chapter 2 of "Exigency" will follow AFTER Chapters 35 and 36 of "Rising Son". Sorry! There's just too much going on to be contained in one story!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Happy 7th anniversary to me! I can't believe I've been on this site that long_—_it went by in the blink of an eye. Oh well, here's to many more years and many more stories!

Lastly, this chapter _immediately_ follows the events in Chapters 35 and 36 of "Rising Son". If you haven't read it yet you may be a little lost so I recommend you go back and check them out.

* * *

**Tumbling Further Down the Rabbit**** Hole**

_**The Auriga, **_**2289.339, 2103 hours.** Her head was swimming. Outwardly she was making a conscious effort not to scare the kids anymore than they already were but inwardly she was reeling. "And you're sure that Jeff is safe and you weren't followed?"

Selas and Becca briefly turned toward one another before replying, the gesture eerily similar to her and Spock. "Yes."

"Ok."

Spock stepped up to the comm. "Thank you children. This information will significantly affect our mission plan."

"We come to serve," their son replied with a nod.

"Y'all be even more careful around campus now, y'hear?" Len firmly advised. "We still don't know how deep this thing goes."

"We will, Daddy." Ny thought she saw Becca reach under the table for Selas' hand.

Chris leaned forward, her smile tight. "We love you."

"Very much," Ny hurried to add.

"We love you too."

"We'll be in touch soon." After a round of good nights Nyota ended the call. She sank back in her chair as if all her bones had suddenly gone to mush.

"We'll have to prep for more trauma," her friend muttered darkly to herself.

"Yes," Pavel agreed. "Zhis es much worse zhan we originally zhought."

"No shit," Len added, echoing her own thoughts. A too-brief silence followed before his rage got the better of him. "A FLEET?!" he railed, "An entire fucking FLEET?!" He looked heavenward before crying, "What the fuck made you think you could go up against that alone, you crazy bastard?!"

"He did have Selek accompanying him," Spock corrected. She reached out and patted his arm. He and Selek may have been genetically identical but she knew that Spock secretly wished it had been him accompanying Jim instead of his elder counterpart.

"Some comfort that is!"

For a minute they all held their tongue as they continued to process the news. The more they learned about the operation on Tarsus the more she privately feared that this would be a recovery and not a rescue mission. Assuming by some miracle they all survived she and Jim were going to have some serious words about his behavior. "Pavel, how far out are we?"

He walked around to the helm and examined the monitors then ran a few calculations. "We are 15 days from Tarsus, assuming zhat zhere are no complications."

Len eyed the gleaming interior of the ship wearily. "You expectin' any problems, kid?"

"Nyet."

"Then I suggest," Ny said, her voice rising slightly to head off anymore of Len's ranting, "That we use this time to our advantage. The one benefit we have is that Section 31 doesn't know we're coming."

Chris, Pavel and Len all nodded in agreement and Spock moved to the opposite console His fingers flew over the controls as he called up all the information he could on the doomed Tarsus IV colony before they arrived. They'd need a solid plan if they were going to get Jim and Selek out of this alive.

* * *

_**The Auriga, **_**2289.347, 1120 hours.** Len was all wound up_—_had been ever since that damn call. He just couldn't shake off the feeling that this whole mission was going from bad to worse the closer they got to Tarsus. What was worse was everyone makin' their plans while all he could do was sit and wait. There were only so many triage field kits to prepare when you're stuck in a flying sardine can with limited resources.

Meanwhile everyone else surged on ahead. With what little information they had Spock estimated that there were about 75 prisoners and maybe 100 or so Starfleet personnel at the installation_—_something about maximum output versus minimal detection, whatever that meant; after he heard the figures he kind of stopped listening. The way Len saw it there might as well be 1,000 officers against them they were so out-manned and out-gunned.

This whole operation was turning into a bigger fiasco than they first thought it was when they left!

He tried tuning into the conversation going on around him again and glanced down at the map. "So you're saying they're most likely here?"

Chekov nodded. "Eef I were building a base on Tarsus eet ees where I would start."

"It is the most logical location as it is well fortified." Spock leaned in closer to the holographic topographical image. "How many lifeforms can the existing infrastructure support?"

Pavel zoomed in on the largest building. "Assuming zhe enwironment has not completely overrun or destroyed zhe area, zhe Governor's mansion can house 20-30 people."

The 2 conferred with one another, zooming out again to look at the buildings lining the drive. "The remaining personnel would therefore be housed here."

"Da."

"That's all well and good but what about the prisoners and the ships? I don't see anyplace on here where they could house 'em or build those monstrosities."

Spock zoomed the map out still further and Leonard saw that beyond the mansion and it's immediate environs the landscape was flatter and mostly barren save for a grove of trees on the west side. He pointed to an area north of the compound. "Given the amount of space necessary to erect a hangar of the magnitude required to build a replica of the USS _Vengeance_, I theorize that this would be the most likely location with which to base their operations."

He glanced over at Pavel and rolled his eyes. "A simple, 'they'd build it right here' would've sufficed, you know."

"That is precisely what I expressed."

"Ugh."

Thankfully Chekov interceded. "As to zhe location of zhe prisoners zhere is no way of knowing until we reach zhe planet. Zhey may have re-purposed zhe granary here_—_" he pointed to a building adjacent to the compound, "_—_or zhey may haf built a brand new structure altogether. At zhis point we can only guess."

"Uh huh." Everything was coming down to conjecture. Great.

"Nyota is in the process of constructing a surveillance drone to help us in our assessment of the situation once we land on Tarsus. Christine is currently assisting her."

So that's what those two were working on in the lounge. Well it'd certainly be helpful. Sine they didn't know what kind of defenses the outpost would have Len hoped the drone'd be damn near undetectable. Too bad they didn't have any Romulan stealth technology…what they couldn't do with a Bird of Prey right now. As he mulled this over Chekov passed in front of him to replicate a fresh cup of coffee. "Hey Pavel?"

"Hm?"

"What kind of defenses does this ship have?"

He brought the mug away from his face. "Ah! Zhat ees an excellent question." Pavel took up a new PADD and called up the owner's manual for the ship before handing it over. "Zhe shields are wery strong_—_my Callan only orders zhe best. He ees wery concerned when it comes to safety for himself, his family and his clients." Len was seeing that for himself on-screen; not even the old _Enterprise_ had this kind of shielding, though to be fair it probably wasn't even available back then. Still…

"No kidding."

"Eet ees true. According to him you can newer be too careful."

"Well amen to that 'cuz Lord knows we're gonna need it." Len continued looking over the schematics and saw that while they didn't have a lot of fire power like their old ship what they had still packed a punch. If they were spotted on approach and fired upon at least they'd have some protection. He set the PADD down and leaned in next to Pavel, pointing at the forward array.

"Tell me more about these phasers here…"

* * *

_**The Auriga, **_**2289.352, 0154 hours.** Christine couldn't sleep. They were 48 hours out from Tarsus and her mind simply refused to turn off. She rolled over onto her side and watched the steady rise and fall of her husband's chest. Sleep had been rare for him these last 2 weeks and as she tossed and turned she prayed she wouldn't wake him.

Another 15 minutes passed before she got up and headed for the kitchen thinking a cup of hot milk might do some good. She was halfway to the replicator before she noticed Spock sitting in the far corner working on…well on what she could only guess.

"Oh!" Chris exclaimed, her hand automatically covering her heart. "Spock, you scared me."

"My apologies, Christine. That was not my intention."

"I know." She took a seat across the table from him, careful not to destroy the plethora of intricate machine parts he had laid out. Only Spock could make order from this chaos and she wasn't about to mess with his methods when they'd proven time and again to work. "What're you working on?"

"Improvised explosive devices," he readily replied without looking up from his work.

"Bombs?" she gasped.

"Yes." Glancing over at her he must've registered her shock because he set the device down. "More specifically I am constructing smoke bombs."

"Oh." She began to relax again and he soon picked up where he left off.

"The more explosive charges have already been assembled and are stored away for future use."

She couldn't tell if he was joking or not_—_given the circumstances probably not. After a moment's terse silence she heard noise coming from the cockpit and turned in that direction. The door opened briefly and a mix of voices streamed out before it shut again. "Is that Pavel? What's he doing up at this hour?"

"He is speaking with Callan and Max. Mr. Chekov is a very enthusiastic speaker who paces the room as he talks, hence the intermittent opening and closing of the cockpit doors."

Chris crinkled her brow and looked back at Spock. "Oh…but why call them now in the middle of ship's night?"

"He calls them every evening at this time. I believe he prefers the privacy afforded him by the late hour. Also, it is late afternoon in Paris."

"Ah." Instantly her thoughts turned to her own children. She hadn't talked to Jo-Jo or Tabby since Thanksgiving morning and while she'd had a few words with Becca they'd been public conversations centered on the mission. If she were braver she'd call and remind them how much she loved them but she didn't trust herself not to fall apart_—_and with everything that was coming she couldn't afford to lose her nerve now.

Another few minutes passed in silence. The cockpit doors opened twice more as Pavel passed; the last time she heard Max, his pre-pubescent voice on the verge of cracking. It reminded her of Se'tak and Selas' voice-cracking days.

"We haven't had much of a chance to talk, you and I." Spock glanced up at her briefly, a spark of curiosity brimming in his eyes, but then he continued right on working. "Especially not about Becca and Selas."

"There is not much to discuss," he swiftly replied.

"Oh really?" Christine got more comfortable and curled up into her chair.

"Yes."

"Spock, given everything that happened with Tabby and Se'tak surely you can't think…"

"How the children choose to proceed," he interjected, "is to be decided entirely by them. According to Terran law they are considered to be adults and as such are capable of managing all that that distinction entails, be it personal responsibilities or personal relationships. Nyota and I have discussed the matter and have mutually agreed not to interfere; whether you and Leonard agree and adhere to the same dictum remains to be seen."

She seriously considered his remarks a moment before responding. "They're older than 'Tak and Tabby were, I'll agree with you there," she replied, "But Spock, you should know that as far as our daughters are concerned Len and I can't help but be involved. Whether they're 13 or 30 we're still their parents and we can't help but worry."

"I understand your concern." _And I share it_, his look said.

Chris knew that neither of them wanted to see their kids get hurt. "Ok then." She took a deep breath to compose herself. "We'll let the kids manage things and only step in if they ask..."

Her words were cut short by a horrible metallic grinding sound coming from beneath their feet. The _Auriga_ lurched as it ground to a sudden halt and sent her and Spock flying out of their chairs. In the next instant an ominous boom rang out from the bowels of the ship and from her spot on the floor Chris watched in horror as the pile of smoke bombs slid toward her off the table.


	3. Chapter 3

**What Jim Was Up To _— _Part I**

_**Geunus Colony, **_**2289.313, 1130 hours. **With a hand covering his brow he watched the Vulcan vessel circle gracefully before setting down. As soon as the dust settled Jim hurried aboard and headed straight for the cockpit, unmindful of Selek's penetrating gaze. "Right on time," he saidgood-naturedly, shoving the small canvas bag beneath his seat before doing up the straps.

Selek took off as swiftly as he landed and did not reply until they were out of orbit. "I am at your disposal, Jim," he replied, "However, I am not in agreement with your current plan of action."

"I know." He nodded and scratched his beard. Taline had been very vocal about her dislike of the new chin growth but he didn't dare shave. He'd told her he was just trying it out but the truth was it went a long way toward hiding his identity_—_no one, not even his own mother, had ever seen him with a beard before_—_and where they were going he couldn't afford to get caught.

Soon they made the jump to warp and were in a field of stars. Selek swiveled around to study him more closely. "Why have you not informed Spock and Doctor McCoy of your plans?"

He let loose a long sigh. They'd been having this argument ever since he first asked Selek to join him. "Because," he said, "It's not safe for them."

"This undertaking is not safe for us either," he replied without skipping a beat.

"Yeah, but I signed up for this and they didn't; besides, you didn't have to come."

"I could not afford _not_ to accompany you, Jim."

Only now, a lifetime later, could he truly appreciate Spock's unswerving loyalty and friendship_—_in both incarnations. And while his gratitude ran deep Jim knew he didn't deserve it from either of them. He quickly changed the subject before he grew maudlin. "Besides, Bones isn't Starfleet anymore, or don't you keep up with the news?"

"I have kept abreast of all of his work since he transferred to the Center for Disease Control; however you must certainly be aware that he and Spock together with you…"

"I am." It was true; he knew what a team they made, how good they all worked together, a triumvirate of logic, emotion, and common sense. Pinching the bridge of his nose Jim tried to keep his irritation at bay. His eyes narrowed into hard little slits as he gazed out the viewport. "I've looked at this mission from every possible angle and this is the safest way. Section 31 is too dangerous to involve them and if you really had a problem with this you'd have put up more of a fight before now. Hopefully we'll get what we need and get back to Geunus before anyone's the wiser."

"What if we are caught?"

In a momentary lapse he let Selek's cool veneer of Vulcan magnanimity got under his skin. Shutting his eyes tight, Jim took a few deep breaths to help keep his composure before joking, "If we get caught I'll just look like a traveling eccentric who got lost with his elderly Vulcan attendant."

Selek said nothing for a full minute but Jim watched in amusement as his eyebrow rose high up into his graying hairline. "_Elderly_ attendant?"

"You're 188 years old, you're hardly a spring chicken. Or would you rather I call you my companion? Or perhaps…"

"I would prefer," his friend replied, abruptly cutting him off, "That I need not be referred to at all."

Jim went quiet again. That's all he wanted from this fact-finding mission too.

* * *

_**Beta Quadrant, **_**2289.225, 0004 hours (ship's time)**. The trip had been harder than he'd anticipated. Not physically_—_they were flying in one of the best ships the VSA could design and it was smooth sailing all the way_—_but emotionally. It'd been over 40 years since Tarsus and he'd worked damn hard to put that horrific part of his life behind him but now the old memories refused to be held back. The constant fear, the gnawing hunger, the brutal beatings…the recollections left him irritable and angry in a way he hadn't been since he was a teenager and Selek wisely kept out of the way.

Until tonight.

He knocked on the side of the door frame before entering his berth. "Jim, we must talk."

Sitting cross-legged on the bed he set his PADD aside and gestured toward the desk chair. "Have a seat."

Selek adjusted his robes and settled in. "We are 36.58 hours away from arriving at Tarsus IV. I request advice on where best to land our shuttle craft and how to avoid the surveillance that Section 31 undoubtedly has in place."

A wry chuckle escaped his lips. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that too." He pulled up a holo-image of the original colony, specifically the area near the Governor's mansion, then moved about 7 kilometers west. The area was completely barren save for a small but thick grove of trees. Selek gazed at him with questioning eyes before Jim zoomed in on the image. "Kodos was…he was…" _A lunatic, an egotistical despot, a genocidal tyrant…_the more he thought about the former governor the more Jim trembled with barely checked rage.

He clenched and re-clenched his hands into fists at his side. "Well, he was nothing if not pragmatic. His_—__election _to power, if you will_—_was extremely divisive."

"I recall that fact from my own timeline as well."

Jim nodded, briefly wondering if he was doomed to repeat his experiences on Tarsus in every reality, when he realized his counterpart might've had it even worse. The taste of bile rose up in the back of his throat and he choked it back down before moving on. "He was prepared for everything; I know because one day one of my friends stumbled onto something we were never meant to find.

"David was out scouting for food when he found the secret tunnels. He was in the sewers looking for a way into the compound when he found a door in an odd place. It took him to a network of tunnels that led directly underneath the Governor's compound."

Here Selek took the PADD from his hands and called up other screens looking at building permits and street plans. "I cannot find any evidence of such tunnels in our files."

Jim shot him a skeptical look. "If you wanted an escape route in the event of a coup would _you _advertise it by pulling permits?"

Selek duly returned the PADD. "I see." In a more human gesture he drummed his fingers against the footboard. "Jim, we have our entry into the enemy camp, but now I must inquire as to how you intend to get us on the ground."

"Well…" Here Jim bit back a grimace and shot Selek an apologetic look. He had a plan alright, but it wasn't one he was going to like.

* * *

_**Tarsus IV,**_** 2289.227, 1337 hours.** The ship hurtled toward the ground despite the beeping alarms and warnings in the most urgent Vulcan tones that they "decrease their velocity post-haste". He kept a firm grip on the controls even as his teeth rattled in his head while beside him Selek appeared to be non-plussed. "Jim…"

"Just a few more seconds." They were getting close now…another 10 seconds and he'd be nothing more than pink mist. "NOW!"

Selek let loose the controlled blast while Jim brought up hard on the steering to level them out. She should've stopped but instead the ship went into a complete stall and landed hard on her belly before skidding away. Their momentum carried them toward the woods and Jim could only hope that the tree line that was rapidly coming into view would cushion their entrance.

"Jim…" he warned again.

"I know, I know!" He pushed harder on the brakes and she knocked sideways into a line of trees, knocking them down like bowling pins until stopping outright a dozen or so meters in. All at once the alarms shut down and Jim sat with his hands clenched in a death lock around the brakes. He glanced to his left. "Well?"

His friend held up one finger and pressed the earpiece closer, tuning the dial on the control panel to cover all frequencies. "They are sending out drones to investigate the meteorite crash."

Jim exhaled deeply. "Here's to hoping they buy it."

He knew it wasn't possible but he swore he just saw Selek smirk. "Indeed."

"Are our recon drones ready?" The question hadn't even fully left his mouth before his colleague pushed the button and deployed the devices that were now speeding stealthily toward the compound. Slowly, Jim released his hold, flexed his grip, then began undoing his harness.

"What do you intend to do now?"

"Cover up our landing a bit better in case they send anyone other than drones out to look," Jim answered first and foremost, "Then head for the tunnels."

Selek was on him in a flash. Holding him tightly by the forearm, he said, "Jim, if you value my opinion at all you will wait until we have a better understanding of the layout and security of the compound before you breech their walls. Please."

Deep brown eyes laced with almost paternal concern penetrated Jim to his core. Selek was right, he was in such a rush to get at the truth that he was throwing all caution to the wind. "You're right." Shakily, he sat back down and ran a hand through his hair. This mission_—_well there was no way he could be objective no matter his reason for being there.

His friend said nothing but sat back down as well and continued to monitor his screens, letting several minutes pass. "Are you fully recovered?"

"What?" Jim asked, shaking his head out of his private reverie, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Because I would strongly recommend that you set about obscuring our… _unorthodox_ landing."

He let loose a throaty laugh and clapped Selek hard on the back before exiting the cabin. "Yeah, alright, I'm on it."

* * *

_**Tarsus IV,**_** 2289.228, 2211 hours. **"Whoa." It was all he could think of to say as he reviewed the surveillance footage Selek compiled for him. There were almost 3 times as many prisoners and personnel than he originally thought.

"That would be an understatement," Selek replied. "By my estimation there are 216 prisoners and 359 Starfleet officers present at this installation. This is a far larger operation than we had originally anticipated"

Jim shook his head. "I knew Mangayo's group had a following but I had no idea it was this big."

"They may not all be Section 31." Selek took the PADD back and Jim stared at him in disbelief. "As you may have observed these engineers have been isolated from the rest of the population and appear unaware of the prisoner's presence. It is my opinion that they do not know that their work is counter to Starfleet's founding principles."

"Like Pullman and the artificial dilithium project," he muttered. "Keep 'em blind to the big picture."

"Precisely."

Jim turned his attention back to the footage of the forlorn and weary prisoners emerging from their subterranean toils. They were covered in dirt and sweat and he couldn't tell where their clothes ended and they began. Single file they trudged forward toward an aircraft carrier which he surmised was their makeshift prison barracks.

"Can we replicate some clothes like that?" he asked, gesturing at the screen.

"Of course."

"Then let's get on it and as soon as it's ready I'll check the tunnels for an entry point."

* * *

_**Tarsus IV,**_** 2289.229, 0613 hours.** Having sat disused for almost half a century the tunnels were badly in need of a cleaning yet they were still standing. Jim followed the old paths but luck was only half on his side; he popped up a floor tile in what should've been an empty storehouse but saw a pair of regulation boots slip around the corner ahead of him. 10 seconds earlier and the man would've been right on top of him. Slipping back underground Jim stood at the base of the ladder and reached into the folds of his grubby robes for the tricorder Selek insisted he carry. There had to be a breach somewhere that he could exploit.

* * *

**0937 hours. **As he rounded the corner Jim cursed soundly under his breath. He'd been searching for hours and was getting nowhere. If the next tunnel didn't get him anywhere useful he'd head back to Selek and regroup.

Shit. And they were really hoping to avoid leaving any kind of teleportation trail.

The slow and steady _plop-plop-plop _of dripping water echoed down the dank passageway and the air was heavy with the smell of earth. Jim couldn't see more than a few meters in front of him; the automatic lights failed halfway down the corridor, obstructing his view.

He aimed the tricorder at the wall on his left then brought it up to the ceiling, checking the readings for any broken conduits and finding none; however, when he checked the right wall he discovered 35 life forms working a few meters away.

They'd blasted through the tunnel and they didn't even know it!

Charging down the dark hallway he slipped the tricorder back inside his robes and began groping about for any opening. It wasn't much_—_only a few centimeters or so_—_but it was enough for him to claw at and eventually slip through. As Jim pulled himself through the dirt he felt his hand hit something cool and hard; as he wedged his way through he saw a packing crate with a Starfleet insignia.

He squeezed through into a small dirt antechamber full of pickaxes, packing crates and polishing cloths. After covering over the opening and wiping the grime from his eyes Jim peered around the corner to see a larger chamber lit by artificial yellow light that was full of moving people. On the far wall trace glints of dilithium crystal twinkled from their homes in the unnaturally-hard packed earth. While several prisoners had the unenviable task of working them out of the bedrock the rest were manning the low wooden tables in the center of the room, cleaning the freed crystals and inspecting them for defects. Quantity was high but quality was not as he noticed only a fraction of the haul actually made it past the guards and out of the room.

Jim sat and observed all of their movements for the rest of the day looking for any weaknesses he could exploit. He was surprised by the small number of guards present until one passed close enough for him to see the type of phasers they carried. The tech wasn't Starfleet standard issue_—_it looked more like something Khan would've cooked up_—_and if that was the case than they must've packed enough heat to keep everyone from thinking about rushing the guards. It certainly made Jim think twice.

From the ceiling above a siren sounded three times and all work ceased. He quickly scrambled through the opening and headed back to Selek and the shuttle to make his report. He'd just have to try again tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N:** Worst. Case. Of Writer's. Block. EVER!

I'm trying though, I really am, so I hope you'll stick with me. I'm also way behind on my reading (sorry NotesfromaClassroom and NyotaRules!) but I know I'll get there. I have every intention of working through this block but it's definitely going to take me some time. Hopefully this update will help keep you going until Chapter 4 works itself out. Thanks for reading and I'm sorry again for the delay!


End file.
